


The taste of cheap soap.

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Red Dwarf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-19
Updated: 2008-12-19
Packaged: 2018-01-25 02:26:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1626620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Story by Ashbaria</p><p>A drunk Lister and a lonely Rimmer. Ensues slash, much to their surprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The taste of cheap soap.

**Author's Note:**

> First ever time writing in this fandom, so I hope they all turn out ok. Beta-ed by me, myself and I, so sorry in advance for any typos and errors^^
> 
> Written for babel

 

 

\- Lister! Lister !! Where are you, you oversized baboon's bottom!? Kryten!! Cat!! Where the smeg are you anyway??

But Rimmer's moans went unanswered as he patroled up and down the corridors looking for any sign of his crewmates. He'd been going around in circles since he woke up that morning and he hadn't seen a hair or fingernail of any of them. (and that was impossible if at least Lister was around...) 

In the end, he shouted into thin air, hoping for any sort of reply.

\- Holly, where is everybody? Holly! 

But instead of Holly's face appearing, Rimmer was faced with a dark screen and a recorded message.

[Holly is unable to reply at the moment. Don't bother me again Arnold, I'm not here. Anold, none of us are here. We're not here, Arnold. End message.]

\- What the smeg? Where the smegging smeg have they smegging gone?

Rimmer sighed. They'd gone. Without him. Again. They'd once again gone drinking/fishing/giant earthworm-spotting on an alien planet, and left him by himself on Red Dwarf. He was alone and in need of a drink, but without Holly, we could just as well have asked for a golden sickle encrusted with the bodily remains of Mahatma Ghandi. Which he was sure he wouldn't want anyway. Restless and bored, he tried to find amusment in the numerous things that made him happy. Arranging and rearranging his uniforms on their holders. Practising his different salutes (from informal to extremely serious, and the other way around). Even trying that crossword puzzle which had been lying around on his desk for the past 3 million and 2 years. But that just killed any last remaining motivation, and he sat on his bunk. This was really, really depressing. In the end, he dozed off, into the sweet realm of dreams filled with ideas for painful revenge.

A cry of 'Hit the lights, Hol'!' awoke him from his sleep, and he glared with all his strength at a very drunk Lister, who was parading around the room in only his boxers, jacket and heavy boots, and the Cat, who was sitting on Lister's bunk, happily snuggling under the covers (you could tell he was just as drunk as Lister by the way he forgot to uncrease his suit before getting into the bed...)

\- Yo Rimmer! Still up?

Rimmer stood up and began to pace around the room, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

\- Ah, you're back. Thanks for the postcards, they're just the thing for my wall...

\- What are you talking about, goalpost-head? groaned the Cat.

\- My point exactly! But there's nothing to worry about... Obviously you just forgot to take them out of your bags, am I right?

\- C'mon Rimmer, I can't argue with you when I'm this drunk..., sighed Lister, trying to pry his boot off his hand.

\- ...you don't need to explain yourselves to me, I quite obviously rank as high as the toaster in this vessel...

\- Yeah, but he gets bonus points for being useful..., snickered the Cat, before rolling over and falling fast asleep.

Without even attempting a comeback, Rimmer curled up his lip and marched out of the cabin. With a sigh, Lister followed behind, sighing as his expected hang-over seemed to catch up with him about 8 hours early.

-Rimmer... Rimmer! Would you just wait up? Rim-

But the door of Rimmer's cabin slammed into his face. Groaning, and still wondering why the hell he was actually doing this, Lister knocked on the door, trying as hard as he could not to sway and fall over. 

\- Rimmer, would you just open this smegging door!

\- Go away! 

\- Rimmer, either you open this door, or I'll knock it down!

\- With what, the almighty power of your vindaloo-and-lager breath? came the acid reply, but the door slid open anyway.

Rimmer was sitting on his bunk, looking despondantly at the wall.

\- Rimmer...what's the matter? Ok, I'm sorry we all left without you. Again...

\- Really, it's not a problem. I perfectly understand you don't want to spend time with someone as boring as me...

\- Rimmer please... I'm sorry, ok?

\- Oh come off it Lister...the only time you're sorry is when you're trying to get me to do something which I won't like and then it's only to be able to get me to feel bad afterwards... 

And then, something amazing happened : Rimmer stopped talking. Not because he didn't have anything to say, but because Lister's lips were firmly stuck to his. He tried to breathe, but all that he could breathe was Lister, and that wasn't exactly on his mind. In the end, he managed to grab onto lister's arms and push him away, gasping for breath.

\- What in smeg's name do you think you're...

But he couldn't say anything else, because Lister had caught his lips again and was pushing, forcing him down onto his bunk, wrapping his arms around Rimmer's body. He tried to struggle, but realised that he wasn't really bothered with the whole thing. Nor his body for that matter. His own arms crept up slowly and began to work themselves under Lister's jacket, feeling the soft skin underneath. Of course, by this point, Rimmer's mind was screaming frantically at him, but he blissfully ignored it, concentrating on this totally new feeling.

Of course, he was by no means attracted in whatsoever way to Lister. That was just gay and he was anything but gay. Plus, it was Lister, and that was even worse. But for some twisted reason that he couldn't quite fathom, it just made sense. Why would anyone else want him? Breathing faster now, Rimmer couldn't stop moaning gently as Lister began to nibble the side of his neck, feeling tingles all down his spine. 

\- You taste horrible, must be all that cheap soap..., whispered Lister as he kept licking.

\- At least I wash. Which is more than can be said for some...

Rimmer was amazed at how stable his voice was, how he was able to keep the shivers out of his voice. He hadn't noticed until now how many muscles moved and shuddered under a simple kiss and his jumbled thoughts began calculating how many would be brought into action when...

His thoughts were interrupted once again when lister's hands began to undress him, parting the green nylon lapels and planting more kisses on the bared flesh. Rimmer began to feel his skin burn under Lister's fingers, and let out a sigh, hardly bothering to keep it in. What did he expect? The only way anyone would touch him was if they were totally out of it. And Lister certainly fell under that category at the moment. And, to be honest, Rimmer was almost happy about that. The least he wanted was to have to answer embarassing questions...not that the situation wasn't embarassing enough as it was. With another sigh, he grabbed onto Lister's shoulders, feeling the bite of the cool air onto his naked skin. The sheets were rough under his back, and stupid thoughts were racing through his mind, without form or sense.

He gasped suddenly as he felt hands wrap themselves around his penis and start to rub softly, a soft nibbling on his ear. He moaned softly as sweet vibrations made their way up his spine and into each and every muscle and nerve. He could feel his heart beating in his veines harder than ever before, and he clutched the bedsheets as hard as he could, feeling Lister's tongue replacing his hands on his shaft.

\- Lister...are you...

\- Shut the smeg up...

He did, and closed his eyes. He was beyond thinking, beyond caring. He just wanted to loose himself in the moment, in the painful extasy that swept all his loneliness away. Seeing that Rimmer had at last decided to give in, Lister began to lick and suck with all the delicacy he could muster in his state. He still wasn't totally master of his actions, and there was a part of him (quite a big part...) that was dumbfounded, not to say revulsed by what was going on. True, if one day, someone had told him that he'd be giving a blowjob to a guy he considered to be nothing more than a pathetic weasel, he would have just bashed their head in with a bottle. That or laughed in their face. And yet, at this very moment, he was doing that very thing, and finding himself terribly aroused by the sounds coming out of Rimmer's mouth. He began to stroke his own flesh in response, amazed at finding himself so hard so fast. Each touch was like a jolt of electricity coursing through his body, and he was drawn to it like a moth is drawn to a lamp, stroking himself faster, at the same time working all the harder on Rimmer's shaft in his 

Lister's mind attempted one last time to bring him to reason before giving up and standing to watch on the sidelines.

They were a mass of jumbled limbs on the narrow bed, each movement a fight against gravity. Lister was buried up to the hilt in Rimmer, shuddering in rhythm as he slammed his body against the other. They writhed and moaned in chorus, Rimmer blearily refusing to submit easily. He knew that all pathetic and cowardly he might be, he still had some pride in his shrivelled-up heart, and there was no way he was going to just let this, whatever it might be, just pass over him. He had Lister's hair in his hand, holding on to it as hard as he could, the minute grunts of pain intertwined with the rest giving him an almost sadistic sense of equality : the harder he was penetrated, the harder he tugged onto Lister's locks. It was all give and take. Giving as little and taking as much as you could. Giving pain and taking pleasure... Giving pleasure and taking pain... In the end, both concepts seemed to be the same thing. Asdesired as an offered hand, or as terrifying as Lister's guitar skills. 

Their moans became louder as they reached their climax, both refusing to be the first to let go. For some illogical reason (not that this whole act was logical) Lister had his hands in Rimmer's, their fingers flexing and clenching harder and harder as they rode the waves. Panting and giving one last shivering cry, they came together, the end as messy and chaotic as their entire romp had been from the beginning. They lay on Rimmer's narrow bed, looking at the walls in an uncomfortable silence, before Lister spoke up.

\- This doesn't mean anything...

\- What doesn't? Nothing happened.

\- Yeah, right...nothing...

Another silence.

\- Lister?

\- Yeah?

\- You tell anyone, and I will kill you in ways that are too horrible to say aloud.

\- Like I'd go and tell anyone! Are you mad?

\- Just as long as that's clear...

\- You bet...

\- Good.

Another silence hesitantly hovered over the duo, broken by a cough.

\- That was, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the most disturbing thing I have ever seen..., came the Cat's disgusted voice from the doorway.

\- Smeg...

 


End file.
